


Pacified

by Parroticat (hanover)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Brotherly Love, Comfort, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Nightmares, Pacifier - Freeform, bed sharing, not age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 00:07:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7867108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanover/pseuds/Parroticat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has trouble sleeping, and Dean knows how to look after his baby brother.<br/>Set in season 7 after they've got Lucifer out of Sam's head, and he's been released from the hospital.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pacified

Dean threw the paper bag onto Sam's bed as Sam came out of the bathroom.

"Got you something."

Sam frowned, puzzled. "What is it?" 

He pulled off his t-shirt, and dropped it to the floor. Exhaustion weighed down his every move, his eyes were dark. Dean hurt just looking at him. 

"Open it."

Sam reached for the bag. He took one look inside, then glared at Dean and threw it back at him. 

"Fuck you."

"I'm serious, Sammy."

"So am I. Fuck you." 

Sam turned his back, shaking his head. Dean knew he was furious, but he was also too tired to argue about it. Which was Dean's exact point. 

He waited for Sam to get into bed, then sat down next to him on the mattress.

"Dude, fuck off. Just let me get some sleep."

"S'what I'm trying to do."

"I get it, okay? You think I'm a kid, I'm acting like a kid, I'll . . . stop." He slumped into the mattress, turned further away from Dean. "Tomorrow we can get separate rooms. Try that for a while, just till I'm better."

Dean frowned. "You're not acting like a kid. That's not- I didn't actually buy it to piss you off. Lucifer was a big deal, okay? You've gone through some stuff; there's no shame in it. But you need to sleep." He stroked his hand over Sam's back, ignored Sam pulling away from him and did it again. Softened his voice. "It's going to be okay, you know?"

Sam turned and half sat up, he pushed Dean away. "Don't. Don't fucking do that."

"What?"

"Talk to me like that. You're taking the piss."

"I'm not." Dean stroked a hand through his hair and breathed out. He changed tack, gestured at the bag. "I'm not pretending it's not weird. I know it's embarrassing. But it's been over a week, and you still haven't slept more than twenty minutes straight. So if it works, it works, right?"

Sam was silent, just shook his head and looked away. Dean looked away too.

"And I swear I will never mention it, we absolutely never have to talk about it."

"Dean, no. I . . . I get that maybe you're only trying to help, but no, okay? I'm not ten any more, that's not going to- I'll be fine, just . ." Sam sighed. "Just give me a bit of time."

Dean shook his head, still looking at the carpet. "Can't." 

Sam was leaning against the headboard now, resting against the pillows. Dean forced himself to look at him, his eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was grey. He definitely wasn't ten any more, he looked fucking ancient. But Dean could still see the ten year old - and more than that the twelve year old, the fifteen year old - who'd needed this. 

"Can't listen to you screaming any more, Sammy." He put his hand on Sam's arm. "It's killing me. So we're going to do this, and if it doesn't work we'll try something else."

Sam shook his head, but Dean knew better. He reached up and stroked his hand over Sammy's hair, pushing it back from his face. Sam half leaned away, winced, but Dean shushed him, and did it again, and Sam let him, though he still frowned.

"I'm just tired, Dean. Let me go to sleep, okay? We can talk about it tomorrow."

Dean shook his head, let his hand move down to Sam's shoulder, and kept it there, his thumb stroking over Sam's soft t-shirt. 

"It'll be okay, Sammy," he said. Sam tensed against the words, but Dean kept hold of him, and said it again, “It'll be okay.” 

Sam closed his eyes. He was too tired to fight and Dean was happy to take advantage of that right now, didn't even feel bad. He pushed to move Sam lower on the bed, and he went, shifting til he was low on the pillows. Dean stroked his hair again, Sam pushed his hand away but Dean ignored that. He didn't know if this was the right thing to do, didn't know if it was fair, or if it would help in the long run. It didn't really matter though, because he didn't know any other choice.

He reached over for the paper bag, and kept it in his hand as he pulled back the covers and quickly slipped in beside his brother. He lay high in the bed, Sammy wasn't ten any more, that was for sure, and Dean wanted to be taller than him again, hold him like he was his little brother. 

Sam put his hand on Dean's waist but didn't push him away. Just held him there, not letting him get closer, but letting him stay.

"Look, okay. Maybe if you just stay here, yeah? For tonight. I don't need the... I'll go to sleep Dean, I promise."

Sounded a lot like ten years old to Dean's ears. Sounded good.

"Dude, it's okay," his voice was deep and low, warm and soothing, he couldn't help himself, talking soft to Sammy when he was tired and scared was second nature. "You don't even have to think about it. You can just go to sleep, don't have to worry cos you know I've got you, yeah?"

Sammy was nodding, despite himself. But he clenched his jaw when Dean took the pacifier out of the bag, and he shook his head again. 

"Please Dean, let's just try it like this." His hand on Dean's side gripped him tighter, and he moved an inch or two closer. "It'll . . . I always slept better with you, when I was little, right? Let's try that."

Dean knew it wasn't enough because he'd sat by Sammy for two nights stroking him, holding his hand, trying to stop the nightmares coming, and it hadn't worked. He was dreaming of Lucifer, waking up screaming, looking for him, sure he was there, hiding. Sam babbled about dead bodies, fire, drowning, a hundred and one things Lucifer had threatened him with if he slept. Sammy needed to give up thinking, and there'd been one thing that stopped that all his life. 

Dean shook his head. "We're gonna try it for ten minutes. If you hate it, we can stop, and that's it." 

He knew how fucking reasonable that was, and Sam was exhausted and scared and soft. He didn't stand a chance arguing with him right now. He seemed to recognise it, gave a huff and turned towards the pillow, his jaw clenched. 

Dean held the pacifier up towards his mouth, but a couple inches distant. Sam ignored him. 

"Sammy, we're doing this," Dean said. His voice was deep and calm; he sounded like Dad and he knew it. 

Sam's eyes flicked to his, he looked at him for a full minute and Dean kept his face blank, kept the pacifier right there. Then eventually Sam sighed again and Dean knew he'd won. Sam lowered his eyes, leaned forward and took it into his mouth. He closed his lips around it and pulled it out of Dean's fingers.

He looked ridiculous. Dean knew that. He was a grown man, sucking on a baby's pacifier, he looked... kind of obscene. But Dean couldn't really see that, he just saw his baby brother, who'd never truly grown out of needing this. He'd used one until he was twelve, not often, only ever when Dad was away, only when he thought Dean wouldn't notice. And again when he was fifteen, when Dad had left them for a month, when he'd started having nightmares, and Dean couldn't stop them, didn't know how. Until he'd caught sight of a pacifier in the store, and brought one home, and left it for him on the nightstand. 

Now Sam ducked his head, a blush already pouring into his cheeks. Dean pulled him closer and Sam sank gratefully into his shoulder, hiding there. He pressed the pacifier against Dean's body, using him to keep it in his mouth. 

Dean breathed deeply, stroked Sam's back, up and down, up and down. Sam jerked away from the touch at first, but Dean ignored him, and slowly Sam allowed it. Dean grit his teeth. If this didn't fucking work he didn't know what else to try and he couldn't call Dad and he couldn't call Bobby, so this was it, this was all he knew how to do. He stroked Sammy's hair, and breathed carefully, in and out, in and out.

It took less than five minutes. Sammy's breath steadied, he got used to the intrusion in his mouth, to swallowing gently every few breaths. He was still awake, but he was calmer. Dean rocked him gently back and forth, and Sam sighed and pressed closer. He was making beautiful light sucking sounds, his tongue lapping over the small nub of plastic in his mouth. Dean smiled, the noises went straight to his soul, told him Sam was safe, surer even than the weight of him in his arms. 

He stroked Sam's hair. He'd have to buy him a bigger one, if this worked, if this was something he needed. Something a little bigger, so it sat deeper in his mouth, wouldn't fall out as easy. 

Sam wasn't asleep after ten minutes, not quite, but Dean didn't even think about telling him time was up. He just kept him close and pulled the blanket a little higher. A couple times Sam breathed hard, Dean felt him move the pacifier between his teeth, open his mouth to take a proper breath. Each time Dean tensed, wondering if he'd spit it out, push him away. But he didn't, he just breathed quietly, sometimes pressed his forehead into Dean's chest a little. Then sucked it back between his lips, and settled again.

"I've got you," Dean whispered, his hand on the back of Sammy's neck. 

Sam almost nodded, sinking deeper into sleep. Dean held him for a long time, tense in case he woke up, expecting him to start shouting, screaming in fear, tense in case they'd done this for nothing. Sam's arm was digging painfully into Dean's stomach between them, he was too big to cradle this way really, but Dean didn't care, and he didn't move. 

An hour passed. Deep sleep made Sam heavy, but Dean only felt weight lifting off him as Sam settled firmer against him. Sam hadn't slept like this since the whole thing started. He eased him backwards just slightly, so he could watch him. He looked beautiful, and Dean didn't bother pretending to himself that he didn't. He slipped a finger through the ring of the pacifier, Sammy didn't even stir. He didn't pull hard, didn't want to take it away. He just took hold of it so he could feel Sammy pulling at it as he sucked. A steady rhythm, calm. Dean liked the feel of it, but he let go again quickly, not wanting to disturb him. He pulled Sam in close, and kissed his hairline.

"I've got you," he said again. Curled around his brother he let himself sink gratefully into unconsciousness.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

The morning was awkward, but they got through it. Sam had slept for a clean ten hours, deep and still. He'd woken up kind of groggy, taken the pacifier out, looked mortified at Dean, daring him to say anything, then stumbled over a few words which might have added up to thank you, and escaped to the bathroom. 

Dean had grinned, stretched, and fixed him breakfast.

And that evening Dean had quietly ignored all his bargaining - he'd be able to sleep now, he felt so much better, maybe this time he would just use the... thing, Dean didn't need to stay, he could just use it every now and then, he didn't need it every night - and pulled him down into bed with him, pushed the pacifier into his mouth, and petted him until he settled down.

After that it was more or less okay. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Until the sixth night, when Sammy wet the bed.

Dean woke up to find Sam struggling away from him, pulling at the covers, untangling himself so he could stand up. He'd taken the pacifier out and thrown it to the floor. Dean noticed the smell almost immediately and realised what had happened, he half laughed and Sam glared at him, a look that could have killed.

"Fuck you, Dean, fuck all of this. You're a fucking dick."

He'd have gone on, but he'd managed to get his legs untangled from the sheet, and he was up and gone, slamming the bathroom door behind him. 

Dean sighed. He hadn't meant to laugh, but waking up to find Sammy struggling and scared was his own nightmare at the moment. Wet sheets were a relief; so much better than the alternatives. 

He yawned, and got up. Stripped the bed, and left the sheets in a pile next to the door.

He hadn't really gotten wet, but he changed anyway. He retrieved Sam's pacifier - he'd used to call it his pally when he was little, and Dean still thought of it like that, though he hadn't said it to Sammy - and washed it off with a rinse of whiskey from Bobby's flask. He didn't want to think what germs were lurking on the motel carpet, he sure wasn't going to let his little brother suck on them all night.

He climbed into the other bed, and listened to the shower running, wondering how long it would take Sammy to grow a pair and come out to face him.

It took twenty minutes. Sam came out wrapped in a towel, and didn't look at Dean as he pulled on fresh underwear and a t-shirt. Then he just stood there, towel in his hand, turned away from Dean, looking lost. 

"Dude, just come back to bed."

Sam turned round to him in a flash. Dean expected to get sworn at again, expected he'd probably have to get up and wrestle Sam back to his bed before this was over. But Sam's eyes were soft and his voice when he spoke was ridiculously quiet. "Seriously? You're not mad?"

Dean felt himself melt a little somewhere inside. "No Sammy, I'm not mad. Come on."

He held up the blankets, and Sam came over, easy as that, and climbed in next to him. 

"I don't know why-"

"Doesn't matter," Dean said, keeping it easy, shrugging it off. "It won't happen again tonight. Go back to sleep for now."

He handed Sam the pacifier instead of holding it out for his mouth like he usually did. Sam fiddled with it for a while, his head ducked. Then he smiled.

"This is really that simple for you, isn't it?"

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I'm twenty eight and I'm sleeping with a pacifier, begging my big brother to tell me everything's okay and he's going to look after me. And now I just wet the bed. But it doesn't bother you, does it? Because you never actually stopped thinking I was six."

"I know you're not six; you're a fucking giant," Dean said. "But no, this doesn't bother me." He tried to stroke Sammy's hair, urge him down onto the pillow. It was half three in the morning, he should be sleeping. But Sam wasn't having it, he just stayed where he was, looking at Dean like he was trying to work him out. "I know you've been reading all those fancy websites, Sam, looking all this up, trying to find out what's wrong with you, yeah?"

Sam nodded. 

"Well there's nothing wrong with you. You're just scared and too exhausted to deal with it on your own. Don't see what's so hard to understand about that. And stuff that makes you feel safe doesn't have to make sense. Don't know why you have to fight it so long as it's helping."

Sam half laughed. "Seriously? Seriously _you_ , Dean Winchester, are telling me that it's okay to be scared and I'm ... some sort of idiot for being embarrassed about," he gestured with the pacifier, "this?"

"I'm not saying you should shout it out or anything, it's not something you brag about in the school yard. But people out there put up with a fuck of a lot less than you've been through these months and come out a lot more screwed up than just needing a damn cuddle. And hell, it's cheaper than the years of therapy you could probably use. So yes. You're being an idiot."

Sam smiled again, and shook his head a little. "You're incredible, Dean." He meant strange and they both knew it, but Dean tilted his head in pretend modesty, accepting the compliment, and Sam ignored him. He settled more into the bed, and let Dean pull the covers around him and make them both more comfortable. 

When he didn't move to put the pacifier in Dean took it out of his hand and Sam let him. He opened his mouth happily, and started sucking the moment Dean slipped it between his lips. His eyes dropped closed automatically at the taste of the plastic. Dean kissed his forehead.

"Gonna be okay, Sammy," he said, "You don't have to worry."

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Sam gave a forceful, flat out 'no' to diapers for the first couple of nights. So Dean stopped giving him a choice. 

It took him hours to persuade him into one, they both did a lot of staring at walls, at the carpet, at fingernails. A lot of starting sentences that quickly got too awkward to finish. Dean's main arguments were that it would be less embarrassing for him to wear diapers than for the two of them to deal with being covered in piss every night, and that it would definitely be fairer on the maid. Sam's main arguments were that he wasn't a baby, and that it was sick. 

Dean won by simply refusing to get into bed with him unless he was wearing one. Sam braved it out, got into the other bed, turned out the lights and tried to sleep. After an hour he was halfway there, after two Dean heard his breathing steady in sleep, and fifteen minutes after that he woke up screaming. Dean went and sat by him, stroked his arm as he woke up, calmed down. 

Sam tried to pull him down to lie with him, but Dean shook his head. 

"Uh uh, Sammy."

He moved back to the other bed.

"Dean-"

"Just put one on and we can both go to sleep."

He called Dean every name under the sun, spent another twenty minutes lying in his bed, twisting and turning, then got up, picked up the pack of diapers and slammed the door of the bathroom.

He came out in pyjama bottoms, with a towel around his waist on top of that, and he didn't drop it until he was under the covers. 

"I hate you," he said as Dean held out his pacifier and kissed his forehead. Dean didn't say a thing, just held him close ignoring his blushes, and he was asleep in moments. 

Dean waited all of five minutes, then pulled the covers down to take a look. He didn't even know why, just wanted to take a look, and it would mean he could get used to it, wouldn't stare later. 

The elastic of the diaper came up above Sam's pyjamas, and against the hard muscles of his stomach it looked... weird. Dean ran his fingers across the top of it, then just dipped his fingers behind the elastic and tugged it to make sure there was give. It wasn't digging into him. Sam shifted in his sleep, moaned softly around the pacifier, and Dean smiled and stroked his side. 

He pulled the top of Sam's pyjama bottoms towards him, while pushing away the slight feeling that he was perving on his little brother. He was checking him, that was all. 

It looked strange, but not really as bad as Dean had thought it might. It was an adult size, so it wasn't as bulky as a baby's diaper, just looked like ugly underwear. And it seemed to fit him. 

Dean found himself wondering what it felt like. He frowned, let go Sammy's pants, and suppressed all acknowledgement of the thought. He pulled Sam to him, switched out the light, and went to sleep. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

After that things settled down. In the mornings Sammy refused all eye contact, didn't even say a word, just pushed away from Dean as quickly as he could, and shot into the bathroom. Then he came out after a shower, and they both pretended nothing had happened. 

Dean usually woke up before Sammy anyway, liked watching him sleep. Sometimes he could smell that Sammy needed changing, and he wasn't pretending that wasn't strange. Sometimes Sam was pressing against his leg, and he could _feel_ that he needed changing, a sponginess to the diaper, which was strange too. But it wasn't such a bad sort of strange. 

They weren't hunting. Dean had told Sam a month's rest before they were going to do anything more stressful than choose between burgers and chinese food. But he thought they could get away with more than that if Sam needed it. They spent most of their mornings driving, going nowhere in particular, stopping when they were hungry. Sam sat in the backseat and read books, like he did when he was a kid. Books of lore, mostly, catching up on research. When they stopped they took long lunches. Dean bought magazines and read them cover to cover. It was nice. Relaxed. And when they spotted cases in the local papers, Dean rang other hunters and let them know. And they moved on. 

Because Dean needed Sammy better. Needed it more than he needed to save the fucking world. He wanted him to rest and get stronger. He was a mess from being in that hospital, weak and shaken, and it was going to take more than a couple weeks of good sleep to get him mended. 

Sam spent his days sighing and rolling his eyes as Dean tried to make him eat. He made him thick porridge for breakfast, ordered him steak when he asked for a salad. Anything he could think of that Sam would like and that would do him good, keep him strong and build him up. Sam rolled his eyes, but he ate them too. Sometimes Dean pushed his luck, gave him seconds of porridge and Sam even ate that. Dean knew he meant it as a thank you, and he appreciated it. Loved it. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

"Dean?" Sammy didn't usually talk to him once he had his diaper on, it was straight into bed, pacifier in, and asleep.

"What?"

"So, am I just going to wear diapers for the rest of my life?"

Sam had his forehead against Dean's chest so that Dean couldn't look at him, couldn't make this more embarrassing with eye-contact.

"Nope."

Sam waited patiently, but Dean didn't say anything. Eventually he looked up at him. 

"You'll be fine, it'll wear off."

"What if it doesn't?" 

Dean shrugged. "We'll handle it."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't make me say it, you won't like it," Dean said. Sammy didn't need to be thinking about this, he just needed to go to sleep. But Sam just looked at him. Dean sighed, he'd asked for it. "We potty trained you before."

Sammy didn't like it, his face fell like he didn't know if he was disgusted or furious or ashamed. "Fuck, Dean."

"You don't need to think about it yet. You're getting stronger, you'll probably just... grow out of it. And if you don't, it's not hard. When you were little dad just woke you up a few times a night, asked if you needed to go. Then you got used to waking up when you needed to."

"Why aren't you doing that then?"

"Because right now you need sleep more than you need to be woken up every few hours." Sam was frowning at him, but Dean frowned back, lowered his voice. "I've got this, Sammy. I know what I'm doing. Just let me." Let me look after you, let me be your big brother.

Sam thought about it and Dean watched him swallow everything he was worried about and bury it under his trust in Dean. Dean stroked Sam's hair, didn't know how else to respond to what he saw in his brother's eyes. Sam made it easier, he nodded towards his pally on the table, asking for it without words. Dean almost passed it to him, but instead he put it straight into his mouth. He thought maybe Sam liked that better, and he knew he did. Didn't think about liking it, just accepted that he did.

Sam's arms wrapped around him as he slept, tight and warm. Dean liked that too.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Dean woke up, and Sammy was fidgeting in his sleep, his hands pushing at Dean. He'd lost his pally somewhere. Dean shushed him, stroked a hand down Sam's middle, and reached to flick the light on. Sam was half moaning, and Dean clenched his teeth, it sounded much too like the beginning of a nightmare, he stroked Sam's hair.

"Hey, it's okay Sammy, it's okay."

That quietened him, and Dean pushed the covers down, looking for where the pacifier had ended up. He couldn't see it, had to sit up, flick on the light. It was under Sammy's leg. He fished it out, and wiped it before he put it back in his brother's mouth. He started to pull the covers back up, smoothing down Sammy's t-shirt for him as he did, but then he noticed the diaper was full, he stroked down over it. Really full. 

He was going to leave it. The whole point of the diaper was so that Sammy didn't have to wake up every few minutes. But he noticed a mark just above it, looked like the elastic was digging into Sam's skin, rubbing it sore.

Without pause he gently pulled down the elastic of Sam's pyjama pants, and the diaper as well, just an inch. Sam's skin was light pink under it. He pulled the elastic further, and it was like that as far as he could see, Sam's skin was rubbed pink, darker in a few places. And he could see pretty far as it went; suddenly he blushed, realising what he was doing. 

He let go the elastic and glanced at the clock. It was only two in the morning, if Sammy was wetting himself this early, and sleeping wet all night no wonder he was sore. 

Dean frowned and took a deep breath. He took hold of Sammy's shoulder and shook him gently. Sammy's eyes blinked open quickly, swam to wakefulness, and his hand reached for a weapon that wasn't there. He saw Dean the next second and stopped worrying. He let the pacifier fall out of his mouth, but that wasn't what Dean wanted at all, he caught it. 

Dean shook his head. "It's nothing, you're fine." He held the pally back near Sammy's mouth, encouraged him to take it again. Sam was confused, his eyes puzzled, but after a second he leaned forward and took it, willing to give Dean the benefit of the doubt. 

Dean held one hand on Sam's middle, while the other stroked Sam's hair, Sam still looking at him, trying to work this out.

"You're, uh, you're..." Dean fluttered his fingers down, and saw realisation flood into Sam's eyes that he was wet. He jerked backwards, away from Dean's touch, but Dean carefully kept hold of him and somehow Sam didn't struggle away, didn't spit out his pacifier either, waited patiently, blushing.

"I..." Dean had no idea how to go about this, Sam was a grown up, Sam could look after himself. Only he hadn't been looking after himself. So Dean just said it. "I want to look at you. You're sore."

Sam's eyes grew wide, and his hand reached up to take the pacifier out of his mouth. Dean caught his hand before he could. "It'll be easier like this, Sammy, just let me."

But Sam pulled free and spit out his pacifier. "No. Dean..." He struggled to find any words, his voice was outraged. "For fuck's sake."

Dean shook his head. He was still gripping Sam's wrist, he held it harder, and pressed it into the mattress. A show of force. Sam was getting stronger, but Dean was his big brother, and if it came to a fight Dean was still going to win it. Sam looked at him, surprised, but he didn't try to pull away.

Dean lowered his voice. "You're sore, Sammy, and I'm going to look at you. It's late, don't make this a fight." It was his dad's voice, and he knew it, and he could see Sam taking it in despite himself. "Just put your pacifier back in, it'll be easier. I'm going to get you cleaned up, make sure you're okay."

Sam flinched at that, and his head fell to the side, looking to the bathroom. Dean knew how much he wanted to disappear there. But it wasn't going to happen.

He kept talking, and he saw Sam exhale, pressing himself into the mattress, growing smaller with every word. He wasn't looking at Dean, 

"Why didn't you tell me you were sore?"

"It's nothing, I'm fine."

And that was good, because he sounded young, sounded the way he always had when he was being punished, when he knew he deserved it and was going to take it. Dean sighed, this wasn't a fucking punishment, but if Sammy wanted to take it that way, if it meant he could get through it, then that was okay. 

Dean let go of Sam's wrist, and Sam didn't move, didn't even try. Dean picked up his pacifier, and held it for him. When Sammy looked at him, his eyes were wet.

"Does it hurt?" Dean asked, and Sam nodded. He looked tired, and confused, but scared too and that was what made Dean want to hit things. He had no need to be scared; Dean was right there. 

Sammy took the pacifier into his mouth, and turned away. He lay completely still as Dean stroked his arm, completely still as Dean stroked his side. 

Dean took a deep breath. He was just going to do this. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of Sammy's pants, and pulled them lower. Sam didn't react to start with, then he gave a shaky sigh, and lifted his hips slightly. Dean pulled his pants down easily then, to the middle of his thigh. He took another deep breath. 

The diaper looked normal enough to Dean now. He'd seen him in it a few times lately, as Sam had got less careful about hiding. But it was big, heavy with piss. He looked down and saw red marks under the elastic around Sam's thighs as well, and he didn't even think, he just stroked his thumb over them, nudging Sam to open his thighs a little as he did.

Sam huffed, and twisted under Dean's hands. Then took out his pacifier. "You know how fucked up this is, right?"

Dean moved his hands, but only to Sam's hips, still keeping him there. "Sure do, baby brother. But it's happening, so let's just get it over with Sammy."

He unpeeled the tabs on the diaper, and Sam let out a noise, a long whine like he was going to die. But when Dean went to open the diaper, he spread his legs, just a little. Dean stroked his thigh, encouraging a little more, which Sam gave. 

"Jesus, Sam," Dean said, as he pulled the diaper open. Sam's skin was tender all over, rubbed pink all over his crotch and upper thighs, and disappearing behind him from what Dean could see between his legs. And he had a few deep red sores too, in the crease of his thigh, and around his dick and balls. Dean knew just the movement of the diaper was hurting him. 

"How long have you been like this?" he asked, furious and trying to bite it back.

"Couple days."

"Sammy..." The diaper was wet and heavy, overfull and leaking dampness. Dean pulled it down between Sam's legs. "Lift up." Just like Dad used to say it when Sammy was little, only now Sammy actually knew what it meant. He didn't gurgle happily, but he did lift his hips and Dean pulled it out. 

Dean wrapped the diaper into itself, and stood up. "Stay there, okay? Don't make this worse." 

He dropped the diaper in the trash can in the bathroom. He knew Sam had been hiding them, but he also knew for a fact motel maids were used to finding weirder stuff in the trash than adult diapers. He wet a wash cloth with warm water, found their first aid bag, and picked out their general go to cream for burns and sores. He'd pick something better up at the drug store tomorrow.

Sam was lying there, his legs slightly open, his eyes closed, and Dean saw he'd put his pacifier back in. He thought that was good, it was kind of weird, but it was better than having him fight it.

Dean sat on the side of the bed and Sam didn't acknowledge him. Dean could hear him sucking on his pacifier, his cheeks were burning, he was staring at the wall.

Dean tried to be careful, but he knew how much it hurt. He wanted to mock and tease Sam for flinching away, for every little moan that escaped him. But he figured he could give him a break on this one, so he just lay the cloth over him, and pressed it gently, moving it to get him clean as quickly and easily as possible.

“It's okay,” he whispered quietly. “Nearly over.” He opened his mouth again to say Sammy was being good, real brave, but he bit it back with a frown. 

He cleaned around his brother's dick and balls, barely thinking about it. He lifted them as gently as he could to clean underneath. Sammy tensed under him, but let him get on with it. 

"Turn over for me."

Sammy did, and his ass was pink, and deeper red in the crack. Dean washed him as softly as he could, as quick as he could. 

He put the cloth on the floor and dried him with the towel, pressing again, rather than rubbing too hard. Turned him over again, and did the same over his front. 

When he opened the cream Sam caught him by the wrist, and held his arm up away from him. 

"I can do that, Dean," he said firmly. The pacifier fell to the pillow.

"Why haven't you been doing it anyway?"

Sam just shrugged, clenched his jaw.

Anger threatened to spill out. Everything Dean had been doing to look after him, to make him better, and he'd let this happen. Everything Dean had done to look after him, but he hadn't let him look after him all the way, never did, never had. He had no fucking right keeping things from Dean, he wanted to shake him, hit him. But he took a deep breath. Looked at the pain in Sammy's eyes, and the set of his jaw. Felt anger disappearing as fast as it had risen.

"Pain kept Lucifer away, huh? Before."

Sam shrugged again, but it was a yes.

"You seeing him again?" 

Sam sighed, shook his head. "No, nothing like that. It just... just felt safer if it hurt, I guess."

Dean shook his head, tired again now. Sam was an idiot.

"You're an idiot."

"Sorry." His voice was beautifully quiet, and he sort of plucked at the sheet, almost but not quite trying to pull it to cover him, apparently nearing the limit of his patience with lying spread naked in front of his brother.

Dean liked that Sam didn't quite cover himself, knew it was hard for him to keep his legs spread open like this. And the only way this worked was if Sam let Dean be in control, trusted him to do what was best. And he hadn't trusted him enough, not quite. But they'd get there. He made Sammy lie for a full minute more, legs spread, exposed.

"If I let you do it yourself, you'll do it properly?"

"Yes. Jesus, Dean, stop talking to me like I'm three."

"Okay."

Dean handed the lotion over, but when Sam moved to leave, to escape to the bathroom, he held him back. 

"Uh uh. Here."

"Dean."

"Do it yourself, but I want to see you do it properly."

"I'm not-"

"If you want me to hold you down and do it myself just say the word."

Sam stared at him, furious and blushing.

Then he dropped his head. Couldn't fight Dean on this, and they both knew it, because he needed him. He needed this thing they were doing no matter how much he hated it. Dean hated having to remind him of that, but the more Sammy accepted it the better it was for them both. 

Sam squeezed the lotion into his hand, and smoothed it gently over his thighs and crotch. Turned away from Dean as he touched his dick, his balls, grit his teeth slightly as his fingers worked cream into the worst spots. Then he rolled to his side, his back to Dean, and squeezed more lotion for his butt cheeks. He rubbed it in quickly, efficiently, and Dean watched him. He felt like a fucking perv, but he made sure it hit every spot it needed to. 

"Satisfied?" Sam asked bitterly, still facing away from him.

"Yeah, just perfect Sam, really did it for me," Dean said, and hated himself for that too. But he was still pissed, Sam shouldn't have let it get like this, not when Dean thought it had been working.

Sam didn't respond, no snark, no anger. Just lay there with his pjs around his thighs. 

Dean picked up the cloth and towel and took them back to the bathroom. He grabbed a fresh diaper from Sam's bag as he came back.

Sam was crying.

He was silent, lying just where Dean had left him, but his eyes were closed, tears rolling down his face, and he was shaking gently. 

Dean wanted to set fire to the world. 

He grabbed the pally from the top of the bed, and held it to Sam's mouth. He shook his head and tried to roll away, but Dean's other hand was on his shoulder, holding him.

"Hey, it's okay."

"I can't." His voice was soft and weak. "He's going to come back."

"He's not." Dean meant that, no fucking way he was coming back, no matter what, no way no how. 

Sam half laughed, like Dean was an idiot to think he knew anything. 

"Sammy, look. It's the middle of the night. You're tired, and you're hurting, it's okay to get scared." He stroked his hair. "But there's no point believing things you think in the middle of the night, right?"

That was an old one. That was one of the first things Dean had learned from his dad, and one of the first things he'd taught to Sammy. 

Sam shook his head, but more in disagreement than accepting that Dean was talking sense.

"I hate how calm you are about all of this," he said after a moment.

"I know." He put the pacifier up to Sam's lips and held it there. "Sammy. You're not going to sleep without it, and there's nothing to do but sleep, not right now. No point having a breakdown about stuff we can't change."

Another tear rolled out of the side of Sam's eye, and down to his ear. He opened his mouth, and Dean pushed the pally inside. Sam immediately turned his head away, pressed down into the mattress.

Dean stroked his hair for a few minutes, his other hand stroking Sammy's t-shirt down, stroking his chest, and his side, while his breathing calmed and his tears stopped.

"It's okay," he murmured, nice and soft. "Let's get you back to sleep, it's going to be just fine, Sammy."

He picked up the fresh diaper and opened it out. Sam's head came up at the noise. He reached for it, but Dean shook his head.

"Close your eyes. Go back to sleep." Calm but firm. 

He didn't care if it was weird, they were doing it like this, because right now Sammy needed to let Dean take care of him.

Sam was too tired to argue, too spent from crying, half naked, in front of his big brother.

Dean nudged slightly at his hip and Sam lifted up. He slipped the diaper under him, his fingers stroking over Sam's thighs, and his hips without thought. Sam dropped down again. Dean pulled it up to cover him, fit it into place as softly as he could. Sam shifted a little, still sore, but nothing Dean could do about it now, no way he was getting through the rest of the night dry, so the diaper was a necessary evil. He peeled back the tabs and pulled them closed, tight but not too tight. Nice and easy.

Sam reached down and pulled his pjs back up. Then Dean gently moved him back into place on the bed, took his own place right next to him, and held him tight, and stroked his back, and muttered small nothings to him until he was fast asleep.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Sam stopped drinking after four in the afternoons. Something the websites had suggested. It helped some, but Dean still woke up at three am, and checked if he needed changing. More often than not he did. And more often than not Dean did that for him.

Usually Sammy at least half woke up, but he lay there nice and quiet, and let his brother do it. Even let him spread cream over the sores that were healing fast, almost gone. A few times he didn't even stir. He just sucked on his pally, he'd shift a little bit as Dean moved him, but so long as Dean kept him warm and didn't leave him, he stayed asleep. 

"This is fucked up," he said as Dean lay back down beside him one night. His voice still full of sleep.

"Yeah, sure I get that," Dean said quietly, pulling Sam into place and stroking him back into sleep.

He did get it, but he didn't deny to himself that he liked it. Liked changing him, and liked holding him while he slept too. Liked watching him eat. He liked that it was basic care, and he knew how to do it, and he liked that it helped, he could actually see it helping. It felt good and that was good enough for him.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Dean held out the new pally he'd picked up that morning. Adult size. Buying it had been the most embarrassing moment of his life so far and Sam had better be grateful.

Sam wasn't grateful. 

"No." He looked for the old one, took it from the nightstand. But Dean pulled it off him. 

"Try this one."

"No."

"Sammy, just do it. You try it for ten minutes, okay, like last time."

"Stop calling me that."

Dean just frowned at him. It was his fucking name.

"Why?" Sam said.

"It'll sit easier, you struggle with that one to keep it in."

"It's too big."

"It's not too big."

Sam looked at him, his eyes big and sad. "For fuck's sake Dean. How much longer are we even going to do this? We're meant to be hunting, we're meant to be..."

"It's fine out there. Nothing they need us for. Not until you're better."

"If I get better."

"You already are."

Sam gestured at the two pacifiers. "Yeah, I'm great."

"You'll be okay."

"Yeah? How long do we wait before you admit that's bullcrap?"

"Two weeks." 

Sam looked better, stronger, and not as pale. He was eating well. He was sleeping well. He looked like maybe he could actually handle a fight without just falling down and breaking something. He looked like he wouldn't blow away in a breeze. So Dean figured a couple more weeks and then they'd see if he could grow up a little.

But he looked scared when Dean said it. Nervous, like he'd been set a time limit and wasn't going to make it.

"Oh, right."

Dean stroked through his hair, held the new pally to Sam's mouth.

"It's okay. Two weeks and we'll see where we're at. You're going to be fine, Sammy."

He stroked the pacifier over Sam's lips, and saw him settle a little. He still wanted to fight, but he wouldn't. Ten minutes was reasonable. Dean was in charge. 

Sure enough Sam opened his lips, sucked the plastic nib gently into his mouth. Dean kept hold of it for a second while Sam sucked. Sam let go of it before the second was up.

"It's too big."

Dean pushed it back inside. "It's not too big. Ten minutes, remember?"

Sam huffed, but started sucking again. Then gently pulled it away from Dean's fingers. 

It took a while for him to get it comfortable in his mouth. It wasn't too big, but it was more than he'd gotten used to. He breathed around it, then started to suck, then pushed it out a little, then back in. His cheeks were flushed, and he kept his eyes closed and his face turned into the pillow. 

He gripped it with his teeth so he could talk round it. "I hate it."

"Ten minutes, buddy."

Sam huffed again, but went back to sucking it. Dean tried to put the old one back on the stand, but Sam kept hold of it firmly, and Dean let him.

He was asleep in five minutes. Mouth sucking gently, while his hand held the old smaller one tight in his fist. 

Dean pushed his fingers through Sam's hair, and kissed his forehead. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

Dean got used to Sam being heavy and lumpy beside him, got used to him sleeping with his cold hands pressed against Dean's arm, or side. He still woke up with an ache in his neck and shoulder most days, but he got used to that too.

And Sam got used to his new pally. Dean knew he was happier with it, slept even more comfortably, and Dean didn't have to fish it out of the sheets for him twice a night like he had been. Sam still kept the other one, held it some nights, or just put it by the side of the bed others. Sometimes when he did that he looked at Dean, expecting him, daring him, to laugh or mock, and Dean didn't. He didn't care if Sam was feeling some emotional connection to a two dollar pacifier from the drugstore. 

He woke up with Sam pressed against his thigh. He was hard in his diaper, but that wasn't unusual, Sam was hard most mornings now and that was good, Dean loved it because it meant he was getting better, stronger. What was unusual was that the diaper felt thin, not padded out. 

Dean stroked his hand over it. Felt like new. Dry as the minute Sam had put it on.

Sammy shifted under his hand, pressing into the touch, moaning very quietly, and Dean took his hand away like he'd been hit. Fuck. 

Sam shifted but didn't wake up. Dean slipped out of the covers and went to make breakfast and hardcore pretended he hadn't just stroked his little brother's erection through his fucking diaper.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

A week later, Sam quietly climbed into bed without a diaper on. 

Dean didn't say a thing, just passed him his pally, and let him fall asleep.

He woke up dry, and Dean felt proud of him and tried to keep that on the inside as far as he could. He made him his favourite chilli eggs for breakfast. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

A few nights later Dean checked them into a room with two beds. Sammy stopped dead in the doorway looking at them.

"It's okay if we just use one of them," Dean said, trying to keep it casual.

Sammy didn't look at him.

When it was time Dean got in with Sammy like usual, and waited until he was asleep. Then he slipped out and to his own bed. He had space to stretch out for the first time in weeks, a pillow and blankets to himself. It felt like heaven. In a cold, anxious sort of way. But he was still close enough that he could hear the soft sucking sounds Sammy was making. He tried to let it soothe him into sleep, but he was still awake a half hour later when Sammy woke up.

He wasn't shouting, no nightmares, just a change in his breathing, and movement on the bed as he looked for where Dean was. Dean stayed still, faking sleep. He heard Sammy settle back onto his pillow and try to sleep. One pally in his mouth, the other held tight in his hand. 

His breathing didn't level out any too quick, though. And he fidgeted, turning over, sighing. His breathing came more ragged. Dean's eyes flicked to the clock on the stand. Told himself he'd wait twenty minutes and then go look after him.

It only took fifteen, and Sammy was calmer. And eventually he fell back to sleep, pally in his mouth, arms wrapped around his pillow. 

Dean breathed deeply, an uncomfortable mixture of pride and abandonment aching in his chest. He tried again to get comfortable, never quite managed it. 

Dean woke up the next morning with Sam pressed against his side, face buried in Dean's armpit, fast asleep.

He kissed Sam's hair, then tried to slip away quietly. But Sam woke up. Took out his pally, and didn't make eye contact.

“Sorry.”

Dean shrugged. “It's fine.” He went to make breakfast. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~ 

 

The next night Sam checked them in, and they were back to just the one bed. Dean didn't mind that one bit. 

"It's okay?" Sammy asked, as they went into the room.

"Yeah," Dean said, and meant it. Didn't want to rush anything. Didn't want Sammy growing up too fast. He knew full well that was just a little bit fucked up. So he ignored it and poured himself a drink.

"I'm tired," Sam said, still a good hour before they'd usually turn in.

Dean looked at him for a second, then shrugged, sure.

Sammy showered quickly, and changed in the bathroom, then climbed in with Dean and let him slip the pally into his mouth. He lay against him, sucking gently. Wide awake.

Dean stroked his hair, stroked his back. He let him settle against his shoulder, relaxed in the dark.

Sam pressed his nose into Dean's t-shirt, warming it against him. Dean stroked the back of his neck.

"You don't mind this," Sammy asked quietly, a few minutes later, talking around the pacifier, holding it in his teeth.

"Nope."

Sam took the pally out, looked up at him, he clearly wanted to talk. 

"I'll book two beds next time. If you . . ."

"It's fine. We can do it like this whenever you want."

Sam half laughed. "Should I start checking you with holy water, Dean? Are you even in there any more?"

"Shut up. Go to sleep."

"No seriously, is there literally anything I could do that would freak you out any more?"

Dean grinned, plenty of retorts in mind. But he just said, "Nope, don't think so. Got used to all your freak."

Sam smiled softly, knowing Dean was going easy on him, that was part of all this. 

"Are you going to let us go back to work any time soon?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess. If you want to."

"If I want to? Since when was wanting to any part of our lives?"

"We can take another couple of weeks if you want. Hang out. Sleep."

Sam laughed again. "Out of everything, how come it's this that's made you go all big soft big brother over me?"

"You had the fucking devil in your head, they locked you up, you looked half dead, and you were screaming your throat raw every night. I've never seen you look worse, Sammy. Dad saw you looking like that and he'd have hit me half way to moonshine. Way I see it, I could either put you down or sort you out. So we take a few weeks, then we go clean up our mess. I don't know why you think it's so weird."

Sam laughed some more, and Dean liked that, liked the sound of it, and the feel of it against him. He smiled, and nestled more comfortably into the pillow. 

"Yeah, sure, nothing weird here."

"You had the fucking devil in your head."

"Yeah, okay. Okay. But we could. Go back to it."

"Okay, we'll take a look in the morning see if there's something nice around. Something easy."

Sam nodded. He put his arm back around Dean, and pressed into his shoulder. After a few minutes Dean plucked the pally out of his hand, and held it to his brother's mouth again. 

Sam took it. Sucked on it nice and regular. Buried his face against Dean's arm. 

He didn't fall asleep, it was still early. So they lay there, warm and comfortable, and Dean stroked Sam's back a little, and listened to him suckling, and felt better than he had in just about ever. 

 

~ ~ ~ ~


End file.
